


Zero

by mxjoyride



Series: Smashing [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Biology, Blood, Breathplay, Choking, Cloacal Sex, Face Punching, Humiliation, Intoxication, Kanar, M/M, Thoughts of death, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26352214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxjoyride/pseuds/mxjoyride
Summary: Dukat can't stop thinking about the humiliating things he's done for Garak -- or wondering why Garak stopped demanding them.  He breaks into Garak's quarters, determined to get to the bottom of it.--“I don’t have any more time for games,” Garak said, pulling away far enough to look Dukat in his eyes.  “So, tell me what you’ve really come here for, and I’ll give it to you.”Dukat expected to still feel rage, but instead, a strange calm came over him.  “Don’t you already know?” he said.“That’s not what I asked,” Garak said.Dukat sighed.  He really was going to have to do this.  He felt warmer inside and didn’t know how much was humiliation and how much was desire.  But, it was clear to him now there was no other way to get what he knew he wanted.  He steeled himself and formed the words.
Relationships: Dukat/Elim Garak
Series: Smashing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914883
Kudos: 22





	Zero

**Author's Note:**

> You blame yourself, for what you can’t ignore.  
> You blame yourself for wanting more.
> 
> Cardassian biology ideas from tinsnip's "Speculative Cardassian Xenobiology" - https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479/chapters/3663809

Once again, Dukat couldn’t sleep. He threw his covers off and sat up with a huff, resting his head in his hands. 

This was all Garak’s fault. Dukat was certain of that now. 

He stood up out of bed and walked in the dark to the next room, stifling a shiver, and grabbed a bottle of kanar off the rack. He uncorked it and drank from the bottle, too fast to even taste it. He was glad he’d decided to be alone tonight.

It had been two months since his last, well, encounter with Garak. There had been three of these and Dukat had expected another one would come about the same way -- Garak would send him the latest set of humiliating photos from the prior encounter, and arrange with Dukat what was necessary to protect those from falling into the wrong hands. But this time, Dukat never heard from Garak.

Not that Dukat hadn’t seen Garak around, with that same smug grin on his face, as if he had anything to be smug about. Garak was a ruined man, an absolute disgrace. And Dukat had been making good progress unraveling whatever this little game was that Garak was playing. If only Dukat had a little more time, he could have turned it all around on Garak and taken whatever joy he had left in his miserable excuse for a life.

This little interruption had thrown a wrench into Dukat’s plan. But maybe it was for the best. Maybe Garak had realized he was no match for Dukat -- that if he continued this, he would be humiliated beyond measure. Dukat knew that’s what it had to be. He knew he ought to be satisfied.

Half the bottle of kanar was gone now. Dukat sat down at the table and placed the bottle in front of him. There was just enough light in the room for him to see the shape of the bottle. The jagged edges in his clump of thoughts had begun to soften, split apart, and float to the top of his mind.

There was no sense in leaving the rest of the bottle to spoil. He drank it down.

For the past few weeks, he’d felt somehow unsatisfied, somehow unsettled. It didn’t make any sense. And that was what was keeping him up at night. He was sure of it. He shouldn’t feel this way. Nothing had changed. Then, the thoughts of Garak began to appear in his mind, the memories of what he had done. As disciplined as Dukat’s mind was, he couldn’t make it stop.

What had Garak done? Who knew what kind of Obsidian Order tricks he still had up his sleeve. Had it been a drug? Some kind of implant? Some other sort of technology? Was this how they were doing blackmail now? It was an ingenious plan, he had to admit, to destroy a man’s mind from the inside with this sort of thing instead of relying on those on the outside. A lesser man than him would have certainly crumbled. But he would get to the bottom of this. He had to. 

With a thud, the empty bottle of kanar hit the table.

\---

It hadn’t taken much effort to get into Garak’s quarters. Whatever attempts Garak made to protect himself were no match for a mind like Dukat’s, of course. And there Garak was, in his underwear, curled up on his sofa with his book and his glass of kanar, looking as infuriating as ever. That same sofa where Garak had subjected Dukat to those humiliations. Dukat could almost feel the texture of it against his backside, the way it pressed against him as Garak’s weight had pinned him against it, the way it rubbed against him as Garak moved in him -- on either side of him the perfect amount of firmness and softness, steadying him as he slowly, thoroughly, completely fell apart.

“What did you do to me, Garak?” Dukat said, nearly yelling. 

Garak looked up slowly from his book and gently set his glass of kanar on the table. It was only then that he made eye contact with Dukat, smiling softly, as if welcoming an awaited guest.

“Dukat,” he said. “What an unexpected surprise. But as for your query, I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a bit more specific. You know it’s hard for me to keep track of these things.”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Dukat said. “I don’t know how you did it, but I’ll make you tell me.”

Garak blinked rapidly as he regarded Dukat, the smile on Garak’s face growing a bit sinister. “Oh, then by all means, please make me. I haven’t got all night to figure it out, you know.”

A cloud of rage engulfed Dukat and he lunged toward Garak. As he did, he felt how heavy and slow all the kanar had made his body. He felt immediately off kilter, and in all his efforts to steady himself, he had barely noticed Garak rising from the sofa and raising his fist toward Dukat. Garak’s fist hit Dukat’s jaw with a loud crack, and the force of it knocked Dukat to the floor. He felt blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Garak was on top of him now, pinning his shoulders to the ground. “It seems that your interrogation is off to a bad start,” he chuckled. “Even you should know better than to try to interrogate someone while drunk.”

Dukat’s head was spinning. He didn’t know how much was the punch, how much was the kanar, and how much was whatever it was Garak had done to his mind. Whatever it was that Garak had done seemed amplified in his presence, judging by how intensely Dukat’s body already reacted to Garak. Dukat tried to pull together some sort of response to Garak, but the only sound he could make was a long groan.

“But,” Garak continued, seemingly in response to Dukat’s groan. “I feel quite certain you haven’t come here to gain information.”

“And what makes you think that?” Dukat said.

“I know that kanar alone isn’t a vice you particularly favor,” Garak said. “You only seem to enjoy its ability to lower inhibitions related to your more favored vice. Usually, the inhibitions of others. But I’ve had a few occasions now to see you use it to lower your own.”

Dukat could feel his rage coming to a boil inside him again. “I have no need to lower my own inhibitions. I’ve come here purely for information and you know it.”

“And what have you come here to find out exactly? Why I discontinued that little arrangement we had that you seemed to enjoy so very much?” Garak said, the smile on his face somehow growing even more obnoxious. “The truth is, I got bored of it. I didn’t think you’d break nearly so easily for me, and when you did, well, all the fun was gone.”

Dukat felt as if a spark had ignited his rage, and he did everything in his power to throw Garak off him. But, it was no use. Garak just pinned him harder, laughing all the while, and all of Dukat’s attempts to escape just created an irresistible friction between their bodies. Each movement just made that much more wetness grow inside Dukat, made his Cho’Ch that much more eager to evert, made his body beg to be filled, to surrender to what it knew only Garak could give him now. It would be so easy.

No. He couldn’t. He had to focus. 

“Just admit it, Garak,” he managed to say. 

“Admit what?”

“Admit what you did. I know there was something. You stopped once you made sure it was effective. What was it? Some kind of drug? A virus? Some other sort of biogenic something or other? What is it that you and your little friends at the Obsidian Order are using now? I must admit, it would be a good way to ruin a lesser man. But it won’t work on me.”

Garak laughed even harder. “Is that what you really think? That the Obsidian Order has given me access to some sort of magical love potion? And of all people, I’ve chosen to use it on you? You’ve always been one to flatter yourself, haven’t you? But no, I’m afraid that all I’ve done is fail to resist the temptation of toying with your very obvious desires.”

With that, Garak rolled his hips against Dukat’s in a way that was calculatedly, undeniably seductive -- Dukat could feel that Garak had now everted and there was no doubt that Garak meant for him to know. Garak’s lips were against Dukat’s, but instead of kissing him, Garak licked the blood from the corner of Dukat’s mouth, slowly as if to savor, with a moan at the taste of it. Dukat felt his whole body shudder, felt his hips press needily against Garak’s, felt a soft whine escape his lips as his own Cho’Ch everted. Once again, his body betrayed him.

“I don’t have any more time for games,” Garak said, pulling away far enough to look Dukat in his eyes. “So, tell me what you’ve really come here for, and I’ll give it to you.”

Dukat expected to still feel rage, but instead, a strange calm came over him. “Don’t you already know?” he said.

“That’s not what I asked,” Garak said.

Dukat sighed. He really was going to have to do this. He felt warmer inside and didn’t know how much was humiliation and how much was desire. But, it was clear to him now there was no other way to get what he knew he wanted. He steeled himself and formed the words. “I want you to fuck me.”

Garak smiled kindly at Dukat, then stood up and reached down to help Dukat to his feet. At any other moment, Dukat would find such kindness from Garak absolutely infuriating, but now, it was a balm. Dukat took Garak’s hand and stood up -- he still felt a bit wobbly. He looked at Garak expectantly.

“Take off your clothes and get on the bed,” Garak said.

At some point as Dukat undressed, the strangeness of accepting an order from Garak registered, but the intensity of his body’s need overrode any further consideration. Once undressed, Dukat walked to the bed and laid back on it. His body sank pleasantly into the softness of the bed. He spread his legs wide and closed his eyes. The air of the room felt tantalizingly cool against his hot slickness and he luxuriated in it for a moment before he opened his eyes. 

Garak stood naked at the end of the bed now, one hand softly stroking himself, eyes fixed on Dukat’s body. It occurred to Dukat how ridiculous he must look like this, displaying himself so vulgarly for Garak. The thought burned in him as Garak got on the bed and crawled on top of him, chest against his chest, wasting no time sliding as deep into Dukat as he could and writhing against him.

It was so easy -- the way Garak took him without hesitation, grabbing his hips roughly and pushing in hard, as if Dukat was a common whore, a hole for Garak to fuck, nothing at all. And easier still was the way Dukat’s body accepted this, craved it, burned with pleasure for it -- as if, despite all he was and everything else he’d done, this, above all else, was what he was made to do. In this moment, Dukat knew that this feeling was what he had truly craved, long before Garak. Garak was right -- all he had done was unearth something Dukat had buried. Dukat hadn’t had the discipline to be anything else, as hard as he’d tried. He’d done this to himself.

Garak propped himself onto his arms and looked down into Dukat’s eyes. He looked like a predator, ready to pounce, ready to eat Dukat alive. But instead, he moved one hand around Dukat’s neck. His fingers found the arteries on either side but didn’t yet squeeze them. Still, Dukat felt the electricity of their presence. He knew Garak could kill him if he wanted to. Garak could take everything from him, release everything from him, leave him dripping and lifeless. Maybe that’s what his body begged for in the night -- to be used so thoroughly there was nothing left. He needed to know.

“Do it,” Dukat said. “Choke me.”

Garak did, and for a moment, everything stopped. Every sensation in Dukat seemed to intensify, float to the top of him, threaten to explode his whole being. But then Garak let go, and Dukat gasped and whined until Garak did it again, and again, and again, until Dukat was overcome, until he swore he might float out of his body, until he held Garak like a tether while he made a shaking mess of both of them.

\---

When Dukat awoke the next day in his own bed, he thought the whole thing might have been a dream. But then, he felt the soreness in his body, and his tongue found the cut on his mouth, and he knew it was real. 

Strangely, his hair was damp. He smelled of unfamiliar soap. There was a glass of water on his nightstand. He had no idea how he had gotten to his bed. This seemed to be the most humiliating part of any of it -- that after all of that, Garak might have had the nerve to help him. 

But Dukat would save that concern for another time. It was still early and, for once, Dukat felt like he could sleep some more.


End file.
